Maeve’s POV
The morning after the wedding was crisp and clear. Sharp autumn sunlight streamed through the tall glass windows of the main estate dining hall. I took my time coming down the grand staircase. I wore a tailored cream trousers suit, and my hair was pinned up neatly. My wedding ring felt cool and heavy on my left hand.
I was not expecting a honeymoon. Ours was a union built on territory, power, and mutual interest. The non-touch clause in our contract was still firm. Last night we had gone to our separate rooms without saying a single word about the altar or the reception. That suited me just fine.
I turned the corner toward the breakfast conservatory, expecting silence, coffee, and maybe the morning financial reports from the Ashford Studio.
Instead, I found Genevieve.
She
